


Rite of Passage

by chaineddove



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaineddove/pseuds/chaineddove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yashiro takes Hikaru to a sex shop.  Hikaru loses it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rite of Passage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stillskies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillskies/gifts), [aiwritingfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiwritingfic/gifts), [troisroyaumes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/troisroyaumes/gifts), [hostilecrayon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostilecrayon/gifts), [lolcari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolcari/gifts), [Ver (verloren1983)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verloren1983/gifts), [inoru_no_hoshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inoru_no_hoshi/gifts), [Qem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qem/gifts).



> M-rated gen. I really feel like I might have written the first ever M-rated gen.
> 
> References Akira/Hikaru and Yeong-ha/Yashiro, but it's two friends shopping, and damn it, that makes it gen. Somehow.
> 
> Chat, this is all your fault, forever.

“Yashiro, I’m seriously, _seriously_ going to kill you dead.” Shindou’s eyes are the size of dinner plates, and despite this statement, he is clutching Yashiro’s arm like a lifeline. Yashiro isn’t at all ashamed to admit to himself that it’s fucking hilarious that Shindou, who was brash and exuberant on the way over – _hey, no, this isn’t a big deal at all, you don’t see **me** worrying about a thing, this is just a totally normal, average Friday night_ – is now looking so hunted.

“You keep saying that,” Yashiro says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but this time, I _really_ mean it,” Shindou insists. “Why are we here? Why would _anyone ever come here?_ ”

“To shop,” Yashiro says sensibly. “Because this is a store, and people shop in stores. You’re blocking the door, Shindou.” Shindou only squeaks a little when Yashiro drags him away from the entrance and toward the shelves of brightly colored merchandise, holding on to his wrist so he can’t bolt.

“Who would buy this?” Shindou demands shrilly, holding up a clear plastic box. “And what is it even _for?_ ”

Yashiro impassively considers the small, bright purple bullet. “I would,” he says with a shrug. “Though probably not that color. And if you really want to know –”

“ _That was a rhetorical question, Yashiro, you freak of nature!_ ”

Yashiro reflexively catches the box when it goes flying out of Shindou’s hands and replaces it on the shelf. “Try shouting a little louder,” he suggests sardonically. “I don’t think everyone heard you that time. Though if you could keep from getting us kicked out of here, that might be kind of nice.”

Shindou’s face is the color of a beet. “You are the worst friend ever,” he accuses. “When I asked you about a good way to surprise Touya –”

“I brought you here,” Yashiro finishes calmly. “I am the best friend ever, you mean. What about this?” he asks, dragging Shindou along behind him toward the wall of multicolored vibrating items of various shapes and sizes. “Look, it comes in yellow.”

“I hate you,” Shindou says with conviction.

“And orange,” Yashiro continues mercilessly. “And look, lavender. Touya _loves_ lavender.”

“That,” Shindou says, shaking his finger in the general direction of the lavender butt plug, which is really quite tame by Yashiro’s standards, “is absolutely depraved in every possible way _ever_ , and I am not buying it.”

“Yes,” Yashiro says, taking it off the shelf. “You are. I am making an executive decision. You’ll thank me later.”

“Maybe about a week after _the end of the world as we know it_ ,” Shindou responds.

“Try next week,” Yashiro says.

“Ha,” Shindou says.

“I will bet you a month of lunches on game days that you will call and thank me before the end of the week,” Yashiro says with a grin. “If you don’t, I’ll know you’re a dirty, rotten liar, or you were just too chicken to open the box.”

“I hate you,” Shindou says again, but takes the box.

“Here,” Yashiro says, walking over to the next shelf and picking up a string of anal beads and a cock ring in bright, screaming neon green and virulent orange along the way. “Take these, too. Variety is the spice of life or whatever.”

Shindou is rapidly going from red to white. “Isn’t there anything less…” he gesticulates wildly, “in here?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Shindou,” Yashiro tells him. “Less _what_ , exactly?”

“Well,” Shindou mumbles, “I mean. It’s like. All of these bright colors. It’s like a candy store. Only, you know, just completely _not_. And it’s just wrong and even _more creepy_ , if that’s even possible, and if I buy this stuff I will never ever _ever_ feel clean again.”

“Well,” Yashiro tells him with another wicked smirk, “there’s the dungeon. No candy colors there.”

Hikaru’s face goes even whiter. “Please tell me you’re talking about swords and fireballs,” he begs. “Video games?”

“Afraid not,” Yashiro replies. “Mostly whips.” Shindou doesn’t say anything. “Listen, just think of this as a rite of passage.” Yashiro tries for soothing, but he’s sure his glee comes through loud and clear. “If you buy what I picked out for you, I’ll never tell anyone what a complete dork you were about it.”

Shindou’s eyes get some of their fire back; he juts out his chin and proclaims, “I’m not a dork.”

“Come on, you _dork_ ,” Yashiro says with emphasis. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Silent and defeated, Shindou shuffles toward the register, trying to curve his arms around the things he is carrying, as though anyone actually cares about his soon-to-be purchases. “I am never talking to you again,” he mutters sullenly.

“Yes you are,” Yashiro disagrees. “When you call me next week to thank me. Remember?”

“In your dreams,” Shindou replies. A few moments of silence as they get in line behind a couple of giggling young women, then, “…Yashiro?”

“Yes, Shindou?” Yashiro responds with a sigh.

“Tell me I’ve gone completely and totally crazy insane and I am _not_ seeing that?” Yashiro looks to see what has caught Shindou’s attention and spends a long, silent moment studying what he is pretty sure is a novelty – extreme dildos are one thing, but this is at least half a meter long and half as thick, with large, angry veins painted all over it. He’s fairly certain it’s thicker than his arm.

“Hmm,” he says.

“It’s the size of a _missile launcher_ ,” Shindou hisses.

“Don’t think about it,” Yashiro suggests, wondering if he shouldn’t come back and buy it – as a gag gift – to be presented to his favorite Korean bastard at the first opportunity. Then again, he doesn’t want to risk the possibility that Ko might decide to _use_ the thing. Probably on him. He winces. “Don’t think about it,” he repeats. “Just pay.”

“There is not enough beer in this world,” Shindou proclaims, “for me to ever unsee that. But I’ll try anyway.”

Yashiro grins. “Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
